Genius Loci

When you google “quotes about Washington, D.C.,” varying accounts of the capital of the United States will present themselves to you. John F. Kennedy ’40 said that D.C. is “a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm.” With regard to art, Dan Brown said that “Washington, D.C., has everything that Rome, Paris, and London have in the way of great architecture — great power bases. Washington has obelisks and pyramids and underground tunnels and great art and a whole shadow world that we really don’t see.”

That being said, the city is definitely worth a visit, whether for a protest or for pleasure. It can be accessed by purchasing the classic New England Amtrak ticket, taking a flight from Boston Logan, or by driving almost seven hours south down the coast — a trip that feels longer than it should be.

In preparation for exploring the nation’s capital, I recommend a diverse array of film offerings. While set across a variety of places in addition to our capital, the 1994 film “Forrest Gump” is the perfect, all-American classic to precede a day or week in the District of Columbia. “Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian” is a great nostalgic pick for us Zoomers, and an upcoming trip to the National Mall is perhaps the best excuse you’ll ever have to watch it again — so I recommend that you take good advantage of it.

As the witching hour reaches its peak, a full moon rises over a twisting maze of russet streets and colonial storefronts. Ghouls flock to graveyards older than the American Constitution, and witches descend on the thoroughfares of Salem, Mass. as they sport thick plaid scarves and modern knitted witch hats — on sale at local apothecaries and street stands for only $29.99. Every October, the quaint city of Salem — only an hour outside of Boston by car or train — is transformed into a premier location for Halloween haunts, as over one million tourists invade the eight square miles of cobblestone streets to conjure the best long weekend of their spooky season.

Salem is known for its infamous legacy of witchcraft — or rather, its astonishing lack thereof, and the disturbing misogynistic and racist implications of the true series of events, depending on which side of history you subscribe to. Nonetheless, an approximate 25 unnecessary deaths and 331 years later, this hallowed town has become an epicenter for psychics, fanatics, and millennial bloggers who have unadulterated access to a Pinterest account.

For as much as there is to say about the commodification and sensationalization of a very real and tragic historical event, a Harvard degree would be incomplete without at least a one-time exodus to this legendary artifact of Massachusetts lore. During the fall semester of my first year at Harvard, I was curious about all of the spooky attractions Salem had to offer and endeavored on my own pilgrimage to the birthplace of the witch trial.

Fed up with my seemingly unsolvable economics homework, annoyed by the surmounting stress of midterm exams, and exhausted by the incessant onslaught of coffee chats and extracurricular meetings, I turned to my friend and said, “I could literally be in Italy right now.”

When entrenched in school, it is easy to fall into the feeling that nothing could ever be more important than that quiz you have on Friday. But the Harvard ecosystem walks a fine line between fully immersing us in our studies and entirely overwhelming us to the point of giving up. It is at that particular moment, when the school year oversteps its bounds of reason, that you are hit with the solid truth that you could pick up, right now, and travel anywhere. This is precisely the reason I found myself studying abroad in Florence last semester.

But what do you do after you’ve exercised the study abroad card? What do you do when you are faced with yet another seemingly insurmountable semester, and you can no longer run away to Italy at any minor convenience? Although less potent a fix, you can daydream. It is certainly a plausible short-term solution. I invite readers to put down their problem sets and ignore their readings to join me here for just a few minutes on my momentary, mid-semester Italian daydream.

As the first auburn leaves fall onto the grass of Harvard Yard, the horror of a Boston February feels like a far-off fiction. The promise of a dorm room that isn’t 100 degrees fills you with delusions of grandeur: all of the books you will undoubtedly enjoy with all of your free time, all of the fall movies you can’t wait to watch, all of the course readings you will surely complete to the best of your ability this semester. You’ve changed over the summer, you’re a better student now.

On the first day of autumn in Cambridge, I found myself indoors, curled up on a leather couch with my readings as the first rainy day of the season tip-tapped on my windows. The scent of a pumpkin spice candle filled my apartment, and I felt as though I were living in an episode of “Gilmore Girls” — the quintessential image of a New England fall. I found myself wondering why every day couldn’t be like this. Drowning in incomplete problem sets, most days, I wasn’t able to look up at the Yard’s beautiful brick buildings and appreciate how well the ever-changing fall foliage complemented them. By the time I finished my reading, I came to the conclusion that there is very little stopping me from doing so. An autumn in Cambridge is ripe for romanticizing.

So what was I reading? “Frankenstein” by Mary Shelley. I know I’m not reinventing the wheel by recommending a Gothic novel for October, let alone “Frankenstein” — but truly, have you ever read this magnum opus? It’s a classic for a reason, complete with a haunting setting, a plot entrenched in high academia, and a man battling a god complex and a manic ego trip. Dare I say, “Frankenstein” is the perfect read for a fall semester at Harvard. Notable runner-ups for books that embrace the genius loci of Cambridge in autumn include “Catcher in the Rye” by J.D. Salinger, “American Psycho” by Bret Easton Ellis, and “The Idiot” by Elif Batuman. If you have the spare time to celebrate the season by reading all of these, I am truly envious.